


Ask not of me to Fight

by musicalgirl4474



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Benedict Arnold is creepy, Horses, Hurt No Comfort, Nooses, Other, Serious Injuries, The rape already happened, Whumptober 2020, but just in case, heed the warnings, it's just inferred, no description at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: Alexander has been through a lot in the last while.Whumptober #3My Way or the HighwayManhandled/Forced to their knees/held at gunpoint
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956718
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	Ask not of me to Fight

Alexander’s stomach swooped when he finally set foot on dry land again. He hadn’t thought he ever would; he expected to die as many times as he was asked questions he would not answer. The nooses were back around his neck, rough rope digging into skin that had been abraded terribly only a few . . . days ago? Or had it been weeks? There had been no way to tell the passage of time in the belly of that warship, it had all blurred together into pain and exhausted sleep. Even now his right leg felt about to buckle beneath him, and his exhausted brain wondered if the bone was fractured.

Arnold and the men around him were wearing their best red coats, mounting horses and readying for some kind of travel. But there was no horse for him. For a moment, Hamilton wondered wildly if they were going to make him walk; was this how they would kill him? Dragging him by the neck ‘till he collapsed and then dragging him until he no longer breathed?

Suddenly, there were large hands around his waist, fitting into bruises that had been pressed there during his captivity. In a panic, Alexander kicked out. “Filthy little rebel!” the man behind him seethed when his foot connected with a knee.

“Calm yourself Hamilton, or you’ll be walking behind my horse rather than on it,” Arnold said lowly as he trotted the horse over.

‘I’m not riding with you,’ Hamilton thought furiously, but kept his mouth closed. His throat was too sore to justify his usual pithy come-backs, and the nooses around his neck could close tightly at any moment. “Apologies,” is what he said instead, and Arnold raised his eyebrow. He was looking for the word ‘sir,’ Hamilton supposed, but he wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction.

“Alright then,” Arnold said coldly, “change of plans. Put the boy in front of me if you will, Jacobs.”

The redcoat pressed his hands into Hamilton’s side again, and Hamilton winced as he was hoisted into the air. He was settled in front of Arnold, awkwardly side-saddle until he was manhandled to be astride the horse. The pressure of sitting in such a manner pressed against intimate hurts and he shut his eyes against the memory of what could have been nights but likely were not. He felt shuffling behind him, and noticed belatedly that the noose ropes had been handed over to Arnold.

“He won’t need those boots,” Arnold drawled, voice suddenly close to his ear, and Hamilton startled. Rough hands tugged his boots and stockings off, leaving his feet and calves bare in the cold air of the autumn morning. His breath hitched against the pain when his right leg was jostled, and laughter filled the air at the sight of his heavily bruised calf.

“Not running on that leg any time soon” Arnold said, to jeers from the surrounding redcoats. Hamilton stayed looking stubbornly forward over the horse’s pointed ears, until a tug on the ropes forced him to lean back. “Head on my shoulder, there you are boy,” Arnold said, and Hamilton could feel the rumble of his voice against his welted back as the man’s hand curled into his hair and forced his head back. His hands clenched where they were tied behind him as he did his best to stay still and not lash out. It would get him nowhere. Not that he knew where they were going anyway. As far as he knew, he was on the way to his public execution.

**Author's Note:**

> There was going to be more, but I'll maybe add that as another chapter to this one in the future??? IDK. Maybe it'll be a later Whumptober prompt. I am trying to get caught up at the moment.


End file.
